


coming out of my cage

by symbiote-rk (markimoan)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, connor has past feelings, hank doesn't remember connor but it works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markimoan/pseuds/symbiote-rk
Summary: doctor stern reconnects with an old flame.things get sweeter with every word and then get dark





	coming out of my cage

It’s three weeks later, another email out, another response almost immediately. Connor’s proctoring an exam, his students being back for a week before going off and doing their student teaching sessions. A knock at the auditorium door makes him stumble over the next sentence in the manuscript, minimizing the tab and goes to the entrance, breath stopping.

The epitome of beauty. Silver hair, wavy and in a police hat,  _that_ police uniform, and  _sweet Jesus he’s hot_. “C-can I help you?”  _Get it to_ _get_ _her_ _Conn_ _or_ _._  “I’m sorry, may I help you?” The cop laughs, steel blue eyes shutting behind pale lids, revealing a gap-toothed smile. His voice is velvet, Connor having to clutch the wall in order to not fall over.  _Dammit Stern, GET IT TOGET_ _HER_ _! Someone could be dying or missing, and you’re creaming your pants over a cop_.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you know this professor?” Hot Cop holds up a picture of Connor, and she looks at the officer with a dumb glance. It’s like looking in a mirror when the cop takes the photo back and stares between the paper and Connor. “Wait a second, I’m so sorry. Is this you?” A nod. “Well, Doctor Stern, I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and I’m just wanting to ask a few questions. Are you writing a memoir and posting it online?”

He gives the officer a blinding smile and answers brightly about his past. “Why yes I am, Lieutenant! May I ask if there’s anything that I should be concerned with?”

“You’re not in any trouble, I just want to assure you that. I just want to ask-do I know you from somewhere?” he asks, Connor’s face falling for a fraction of a second before he stutters against his composure. “I feel like I know you-did you work for the police department?”

“Yes I did, Why?” He asks shakily.

Hank’s face brightens, the already blinding grin almost too much to bear. “Dete-Doctor Stern, I’m glad to see that you’ve made a new way for yourself. I should let you get back to work, your students seem to have found something interesting to watch.” True to his word, when Connor’s head tilts up, several of his students have abandoned their exams in favor of watching him and Lieutenant Anderson conversate.

“Get back to work!” Connor snaps, his eyes blazing with a newfound fire that has even the hardboiled lieutenant taking a step backwards. He turns his gaze back to the officer with a soft smile at the same time he hands Connor a business card with his name on it. “Oh, what’s this?”

“In case you want to get together sometime.” Hank matches Connor’s grin, and if the lightest blush ever so slightly graces Connor’s cheeks, he can always blame it on the faulty heating in the auditorium. “I’ll hear from you soon?”

“Of course.”

~~

Niles gives a shriek through the phone hours later when Connor locks his front door, device jammed between his ear and shoulder. It should have knocked him from his dopey trance, but only served to push him deeper into it.

“He gave me his number! And guess who it is, Niles. Guess!!”

Niles asks, his voice pitched higher in excitement. “Who?!”

“You remember the hot guy I wanted back in the Department?”

“NO! It’s Anderson?!” Connor squeals and jumps around, the only person watching him being Bagel. “No fucking way! I thought he croaked the minute you left because you treated him so well and then just up and disappeared!” Connor makes a few more noises before sitting down, the floorboards of his minimalistic apartment finally settling before Bagel hops into his lap, purring contentedly as he strokes Bagel’s ears.

“I know! He just walked into my class asking for me and gave me his number!” True to his word all those weeks ago, Connor kept to telling Niles about every interaction with this Anderson fellow, his eyes tracking the email receipts and not whether or not he actually wanted to talk to the doctor. The laptop boots up, coffee being brewed as he picks Bagel up, the little black thing scuttling off his lap and down the hall before she meows at him. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could give me his number so we could get together and talk! I might take him up on that offer, but what if-”

“Don’t think about the what if, think about him holding you as he takes you from-” Connor cuts him off with a playful screech, Niles’s tinny laughter filtering through the speaker. “Okay okay, too far! Think of the conversations you could have!" Connor sighs, listening to his brother ramble on. Their conversation from the car all those weeks ago hits him like a bus when the book is brought up. “Come on, just go easy on the questions, let him talk, bring the stupid package to him if you feel so inclined to!”

The box in question, the one filled with his unfinished works, has rested on Connor’s doorstep waiting for its trip to the post office to be brought to the box of one special police officer, but it will wait. It lays with twine wrapped around the edges, tied with a bow and a little holiday wreath on the corner that read ‘happy holidays’, the black stamp smudged off and written over with a fancy ‘enjoy’.

“I’ll try, I’m just nervous. What do I wear? I wanna ask him to go tomorrow, but what if he says no? What if he regrets it?” He begins to pace again, Bagel meowing loudly to get his attention. “Sorry sweetie. But Ni, what if he doesn’t want to meet anymore? What if it was an impulsive thought and now he regrets it?”

“Look, I get that you’re nervous and all- this is your old flame we’re talking about! If he didn’t want to meet, he wouldn’t have given you his number, Con! He wants you! Did he do that thing that he always does when he flirts with someone?” He sighs when recalling the talk in the classroom, Anderson’s hands migrating from letting him lean on the doorway to resting on his belt, thumbs resting on top of the smooth leather. He lets a whimper slip and Niles groans, calling him out. “Oh, you- you nasty man, moaning while on the phone with your baby brother! Just, yes or no, did he or did he not do the flirty thing?” Yes. “Perfect. Do you know what you’re going to wear? It’s February, mind you.” Connor makes an affirming noise, sending pictures of him outfits to him. “I like the second one. Y’know, the grey sweater with the black jeans that have the lil planets on them? That’s a cute one.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the bag. I know you’re gonna be working on the damn book, what are you going to take your laptop in?” He answers with a hand raising the battered grey shoulder bag and his brother winces.

“I mean, it’s practical, he’s seen the bag I carry with me all the time. Why would I change it?” The poor thing is held together with electrical tape and sheer willpower, grey fabric hanging off it from failed sewing attempts made by both Connor and the old woman in 7C.

“If I have anything to say about that bag, it’s that I think it’s seen better days in the garbage. What about the bag I got you for Christmas?” Connor’s honey eyes drift to the white bag, still in its box that sits by the windowsill. “Use that, give yourself a bright pop of something. And for the love of Jesus, wear a damn hat!” A warm laugh bubbles in Connor’s sternum, Niles joining in and the sounds mingle together before Connor waves goodbye, the clock reading 6:22.  _Now or never, Stern. Call him_.

Ring, ring, ring. She begins to wander aimlessly through the apartment, her arms held out like she’s in a balancing act before a familiar voice rumbles through the speakers. “Anderson, who is this?”

“Hi, Lieutenant Anderson? It’s Connor, the professor from earlier.” There’s a dog barking in the background and a small child yelling after it, the hearty voice of the Lieutenant laughing. “I don’t know if this would be a good time to ask, but I wanted to know if you would like to get coffee sometime with me?” Another laugh, and if Connor could to hear a sound for the rest of his life, it would be that laugh. It made his insides tingle with excitement, smiling brightly at the fact that this was happening. “Perfect! I was thinking Always Brewing? It’s close to where I live, and I could show you around the North Side.” Another sound of confirmation, and a little kid comes into the speaker’s range.

“Daddy, who’s that Connor snickers loudly, startling Bagel from her resting place and he rubs her cheek, letting the furry thing bite him for disturbing the gentle beast. “Great! I can’t wait to see you, Lieutenant.”

“Please, Connor. Drop the title. Call me Hank.” The phone call ends, Connor squealing in delight once more as he goes to his desk, pulling up the manuscript and starts once more.

_There comes a time where romance is put on pause, and I think it started when I left my relationship with Daniel. He was so kind, but the bruises, I couldn’t hide them anymore. They would peek from around the edges of my sweaters and dress shirts, dodging questions after they fired at me, and I needed to leave. It was too much. There is much, much more to be discussed about him, but for now, I leave it with this. If I could go and turn back time, I would tell past me to never meet this Daniel figure, to stay out of his path, and maybe stay in the police department. Who knows, maybe the cute lieutenant with the brand-new baby boy could need some help. He is after all the eldest of the precinct and is always in need of a helping hand._

The time comes all too soon, far too soon, Connor watching himself as he pulls his boots on and laces them tight, kissing Bagel goodbye before stepping into the Detroit winter, the cold seeping into his bones no matter how tight he pulls the coat to himself. The shop is in view, the package and bag secured under his right arm and he trudges through the snow, flipping off the driver that tried to hit him on 36th, too impatient to wait the extra fifteen seconds for him to cross. The door to the shop chimes happily, the barista warmly greeting him as the smell of coffee beans wraps around his frame like a welcome home hug, the shop set with couches and soft chairs across the floor. There’s a cat perched in the window, another worker trying to move him, but he remains in his spot, eyes shut contently. “Good afternoon, sir!” This breaks him from his trance, Connor shaking his head before giving a sheepish greeting. He shakily puts his coat up and corners himself in the closest chair he can find, tucking his feet under himself, opens his bag and retrieves the laptop once more, clicking away until a set of legs come to stop in front of him, breaking him from his trance, fingers poised over the white keys.

“I don’t know if you wanted to sit here, but it looks like you camped out before I had the chance to tell you.” Hank says softly, a hand on the back of his neck. Connor shows off a perfect smile, giggling as he hides his smile behind a lithe hand. “So, I had a few questions and want to know if I can get them answered…”

The two go off in a deep conversation, Hank asking queries of Connor’s relationships with Ralph and Daniel, Connor retaliates with questions of his family, passing around cups of coffee until the dreaded question falls from Hank’s lips. “So, what made you want to write this memoir?” Connor’s heart stops. The aura of their little circle goes dark, Hank watching him with curious steel blue eyes. Neither of them dares to speak for a moment, both worried of the outcome. “Connor?”

His words are stuck in his windpipe, threatening to get through until he clears his throat to speak. “I-I worked in the police department, there was an officer that I helped back on his feet and left because I couldn’t be around him anymore.” Hank asks the dreaded question of who, and he gulps before standing up abruptly. “I-I’m sorry, it’s too painful. I ended up getting hurt in the line of duty a-and I needed to leave.” A bold-faced lie, and Hank leaves it at that. He sees a tattoo poke from under Connor’s sleeve and asks what it was, the other revealing a blooming bouquet of forget-me-nots, a simple word scrawled across his wrist. Forever. “Niles and I have the same word, this one’s in his handwriting.”

“Isn’t that something that, y’know, only couples do? Get matching tattoos?” Connor explains the significance, how he got it in memory of his bond with his brother, and Hank nods understandingly, humming in approval. “Alright. Any other tattoos?” Connor reveals another, a pink mustache on his middle finger. He raises it and makes a joke, while Hank snickers. It’s a beautiful sound, and Connor wishes to hear it more often. Another tattoo revealed, a bagel behind his right ear. “Let me guess, gluten fanatic?”

“No, my cat’s name is Bagel.” Hank tries to steer the conversation back to the topic of the book, Connor expertly dodging every single question.

Finally, the older has had enough, clipping out, “What’s so difficult about talking about this book’s origin? It should be easy, right?”

Connor snaps, throwing his manuscript down and looks at Hank with a newfound fire in his eyes. “I started writing it because Daniel killed himself, okay?! He took away so much from me, and if you actually read the fucking thing you would know that!” The shop goes eerily quiet, even the coffee machines silence themselves in favor of Connor’s voice being the loudest thing to project into the space. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“No, you had the right to. I angered you.”

“Hank, that’s not what I meant-”

"Give me a minute, I need to make a call.” Hank goes to stand, his hands on the armrests, and Connor can’t help the tears that build in her eyes. “Stay, Connor.” Thoughts run through her mind at a thousand miles an hour,  _what if he hates me, what if he goes home and doesn’t come back, what if, what if, what if-_  

Everything is silenced when Hank sends a gentle smile his way, one of sympathy and promise. “I’ll be back, don’t you worry.” He exits the shop, Connor calling Niles in a panic.

“Ni, he just fucking left.”

“He WHAT?!” Connor goes into detail about it, talking about his outburst. “Okay, so tell him to come back!”

“I can’t fucking do that, Niles! What if he-” The chime of the door of the café opening brings him back, hanging up on his little brother abruptly.

Hank sits down next to Connor, smiling warmly. “Told you I’d be back, Connor. Wanna go back and tell me more?”

“I don’t want to yell at you again.”

“I won’t get mad.”  _Daniel used to say that._  Connor flinches when Hank sits closer to him, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Con?”

“I- there’s a lot that went on between me dating Daniel and this book being started, so I don’t know if we’ll have time.” Hank reassures him, and Connor goes headfirst into it. “Daniel wasn’t the best fit for me, no matter which way you slice it. Loud, abrasive, condescending. I fell for him when I went into the police academy, but there was another guy that caught my eye. I wanted to get to know him better-”  _know you better_  “-but by that time Daniel already asked me out and he and I started dating. I remember him telling me that he didn’t want me seeing anyone else, that I was his and his alone. He made damn certain that I knew that I wasn’t allowed to have anyone else, not even Niles.” The bruises hurt to think about, even now. “I never thought that it would happen to me, that I wouldn’t be caught in that crossfire of abusive relationships. Here I am now, finally out of them because the man that did that to me is dead.” Hank reaches around Connor, putting an arm over his shoulders and pulls him in close.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” Connor’s eyes well with tears again as he turns his head to push her nose into the fabric of Hank’s sweater. “Who was the guy in the academy?”

The words feel like a lump in his throat and he swallows before answering simply, as simply as one can put it, “You.”

“I’m sorry, what?” He’s astonished at the comment falling from Connor’s lips. “I might be getting old, did you just say-”

“I said what I said, and I’m not saying it again unless you want me to cry.” Oh no, his voice is doing the thing again. The thing where the hurt in his chest crawls and curls up in the base of his throat, sitting like a lump and never moves, never wavers. It’s an ugly thing to get around, and Connor’s only out at this point is to start sobbing. No, he is a man true to his word, and he will not cry in front of this man.

“Connor, I-I had no idea.” There it is. The flash of recognition goes across Hank’s face, his hands resting on his lap. “I thought you died. You worried me so much when you left, I completely wrote you out until now.” Connor’s heart sinks, but Hank’s reassuring smile keeps him hooked as he says, “I see what you’ve got here... a fancy lil dilemma about how to go around this. Well, let’s make things easier.”

“How would being here make thi-” Oh. This is a new sensation. Hank’s hand wraps around the back of his neck, lips against his own.  _This is nice,_  Connor’s subconscious thinks, and for once, he agrees. _This is very nice, imagine how you’ll feel when his head is-_ He cuts off the voice with a sigh, his lithe hand cupping the scruff on Hank’s cheek, smiling into the kiss, and they break when the need for air grows stronger, the two sharing the same breath before laughing in the shop’s coffee-tinted air. “So, I take it that the feeling’s mutual?”

“You bet.” Connor curls into Hank as he raises his hand delicately for another order of coffee. The barista comes around with a fresh pot, a knowing smile on her face when she sees Connor give Hank a once over before she hears him tell Hank, “You know, maybe I wanted you from the start. You never know if you don’t try.”


End file.
